If you’ve been a regular reader of this blog, you’ve likely come across a few of my KALX playlists from the early 1990s. Ever since I’ve started posting them, I’ve been marveling at all the bands I was soooo into for what felt like a lifetime (which is, granted, roughly 12 to 24 months in teen years) yet haven’t had any urge to listen to in nearly two decades.

Jawbreaker is one such band, and it looks like Blackball Records has recently reissued the Chesterfield King EP and Bivouac LP. I first discovered them within my first few weeks of college. Although I don’t recall the depth of my fondness for them, the fact that they were the first band I played on my very first KALX radio show on March 30, 1993, is very telling (as is the Chipmunks tune I played right after them). Coincidentally, they played at 924 Gilman St. that same night. I had interviewed them earlier that month for the third issue of my zine, My Letter to the World—once at their sold-out show at the Berkeley Square and, since the batteries in my tape recorder had died, again at a mariachi-loving café in the Mission, where they told me I had a child’s finger in my purse. They were 25 or 26 years old and I thought they were so wise, so “adult.”

Shortly after, I made my first trip to Sacramento with Nathan and Mickey to see them at the Crest Theatre. I don’t remember much about that show—come to think of it, I didn’t even recall going until I saw the Angelic Upstarts at the Colonial Theatre in 2001 and had a strange sense of déjà vu—but I somehow still have a live recording from their May 3, 1993, Gilman show.

And then I went home for the summer. My mom made me take a vocational class in summer school so I chose print shop. It was held in a continuation school for the expelled, unmotivated, and/or pregnant. Together we learned how to etch glass and screenprint, although I was by far the most enthusiastic of the bunch. They were all under 18 and much more interested in asking each other when their babies were due, who the fathers were, how much weed they had left over from the weekend, who hooked up with whom, etc. At one point they even asked me about my pregnancy because they assumed I wore non-skintight clothing to hide my baby bump. I was definitely the odd person out but we shared a love for oldies music. I finished the class with a bunch of handprinted Jawbreaker shirts and stickers as well as copies of issue six of my zine.

Later that year, Nirvana asked Jawbreaker to open six shows for them, which was a huge deal within the punk community because Nirvana was a major-label superband. (People were still in a tizzy from earlier rumors that Green Day would be signing to a major label.) I asked singer/guitarist Blake if he’d keep a tour diary while on that fateful tour and let me publish it. Surprisingly, he said yes. Since I doubt no more than a handful of people ever read the thing, I’ll be posting it here soon if you’re interested [4/8/14:here it is].

(Incidentally, in case you’re in awe of my ability to remember 1993 in such chronological detail, I’ll admit that I had to dig up copies of my zine, which I made between 1993 and 2001. You probably know some folks who can recall with frightening clarity what they wore on their first day of third grade and what they ate last Tuesday. I’m definitely not one of them, so I’m glad to have a record of that period of my life.)

Speaking of Jawbreaker, exactly four years ago today (really?! It seemed so much more recent than that!), I saw Thorns of Life, one of Blake’s projects, at Gilman when they passed through town. It was a trip seeing him on stage again—and Aaron Cometbus and former Gr’ups Daniella, for that matter. Did I break out and listen to all my Jawbreaker records afterwards? Nope, still no interest. But I did finally, recently, play their records for myself. Surprisingly, only a couple of songs really stood out (“Want,” “Busy,” “Chesterfield King,” “Sleep”; most of 24-Hour Revenge Therapy) and I wasn’t hit with crushing nostalgia like I feared. In fact, the songs no longer spoke to me like they did 20 years ago, which makes sense since I’m a different person now.

Here are my playlists from January 1994, the month Jawbreaker’s 24-Hour Revenge Therapy came out, judging by all the exclamation points on my playlist. In hindsight, I should’ve waited to start posting my playlists this year so that they’d be exactly 20 years old, but I had no idea I’d still be blogging, and I can’t predict that I’ll still be blogging a year from now. So enjoy, and thanks for stopping by.